


I Had A Dream I Was Your Hero

by aliccolo (guti)



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Daredevil (Comics), Elektra (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/F, F/M, Femslash, Fight Sex, Hate Sex, Het, Hurt/Comfort, Knifeplay, Minor Violence, Multi, Threesome - F/F/M, f/f - Freeform, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-10
Updated: 2015-04-10
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:57:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3717712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guti/pseuds/aliccolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha sees someone in red in Hell's Kitchen and gives chase, realizing too late that she isn't following Matt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Had A Dream I Was Your Hero

The city was restless tonight, and so was Natasha. With no assignment other than to lay low, she found her open bedroom window calling her out into the evening to chase shadows across Manhattan, and to perhaps bust up a criminal or two. It had really been too long since she'd been out on a patrol that didn't have an official name or title to it. Sometimes she missed the nights where she was free to engage anyone she felt was deserving of her wrath. She'd been a decent hero, she really had. It just so happened that she was an even better spy. And one had to make a living.

It was chilly out, one of the first real cold nights of the year. A week ago, she'd have been sweating in her catsuit, plucking it helplessly from her skin on occasion as she gracefully made her way from rooftop to rooftop. But the earth had turned, and the weather had too, and instead of overheating, she found herself now shivering wherever her bare skin met the night air. The air smelled cold too, stinging at her nostrils, already burning from New York's ozone. She never got quite used to that sickly smell, she much preferred San Francisco's scent. Sea air, salty and fresh, and even when it was rainy and grey, the city smelled clean. Manhattan did not smell clean.

Briefly then, she thought of Matt, and how the city must smell to him. Even if he hated the noise and the smell of the city, he'd always favored it over California. Exhaust and sewage and the collective scent of millions of people probably drove him crazy-and would really explain a lot, she noted, laughing under her breath-but it was familiar, and personal, and it was his. 

It must be nice to have something as grand as a city to call his own.

Somehow, during her little trip down memory lane, she'd wound up on the west side. It was all so familiar, though it seemed like she hadn't been there in ages. The skyline was the same as always, the way the lights played off the passing cars and the pavement was all the same. Natasha breathed in deep, ignoring the strange, unpleasant scents as she readjusted her wristlets as she paused on a ledge. The nostalgia was getting to her. She was already here, she may as well drop in on Mr. Murdock and make sure he wasn't getting into any trouble.

She found his place empty though. Empty and far too quiet for her liking. She contemplated crawling into his bed, waiting for him in a gesture of surprise, but she'd just been bouncing around in the cold. Her blood was pumping, adrenaline kicked in from the rush of leaping across the city. Matt wouldn't be too far off, and if she was on her game, perhaps she could play catch up without him catching on too quickly. Silently, she disappeared back into the night, slipping into the shadows and across the rooftops like a cat, eyes peeled for anything crimson.

Moments later, she saw it, so far ahead it was barely in view. That flash of scarlet against the black of the city, scarlet that could only mean one person. She would deny that her heart started racing, deny with every last ounce of her will that her breath caught in her throat, all the while her body sprang into perfect motion, trailing the fleeting red around corners, across alleys, throughout Hell's Kitchen until--

It wasn't Matt.

Natasha could scarcely contain her disappointment, nor the shock at her own incompetence. Her eyes narrowed at the red clad figure perched daintily on the rooftop, back to her, exposed and contemplating like a blood spattered gargoyle.

How could she have been so easily fooled?

Natasha landed on the rooftop behind Elektra, not uttering a single word or even daring to take another step. She understood the latent danger. She knew just how precarious the situation had become, and Elektra didn't even know she was there. That little thought prompted a small curl in her lips. The notion of having the drop on the ninja queen was almost too good a chance to pass up. How nice and easy would it be to spring at her now, to flip across the roof top and take her out? She would be justified, and probably given some sort of commendation by SHIELD, in thanks for taking out an assassin of Elektra's reputation, and no one would even question her motivations.

Because she wasn't jealous. Black Widow didn't do jealous. No matter what anyone said.

But she did hate that bitch. Everything about Elektra made her skin crawl and her fingers curl in anger. She knew all about her sob story and she didn't feel an ounce of pity for the little brat. She'd made her bed, she'd sold her soul. And for all Natasha cared, she could burn in hell.

But that wasn't jealousy speaking. That was merely her own professional opinion on the matter. Personally, she couldn't care less about her. That Matt had once loved her too didn't affect Natasha's judgment on the situation at all. That she'd been his first love, that she'd died in his arms, that it had had such a powerful effect on him was really none of Natasha's concern. He was just a man, driven by hormones and lust. He couldn't be expected to resist someone as beautiful and alluring as the Greek goddess sitting quietly on the roof.

Beneath the night lights of the city and the intermittent moonlight, she really was a sight. Natasha was secure enough with her own appearance to admit, she could see exactly why Matt would fall in love with such a creature. Her skin looked like liquid honey against that red, complimented so finely by the black tangles of her hair, even from behind, Natasha was struck by how lovely she was. No wonder Matt wanted her, no wonder he'd fallen for her, no wonder--

She nearly choked on her own saliva remembering stupidly that Matt had never even seen her. Stupid, so stupid. She was being so careless, getting sidetracked by Elektra when she should be searching for Daredevil. She could have her revenge fantasies later, she decided as she turned on her heel and prepared to dive off the building and resume her quest.

"Good evening, Black Widow."

Natasha nearly froze, ready to electrocute Elektra in a second. She turned quickly, ready to strike, only to find the ninja in the same spot she'd been in all along, staring out across the city, looking almost serene. Natasha didn't say a word.

"It's strange to find you here," Elektra continued after a momentary lull. Her voice was so calm, so distractingly calm, and with no hint of accent or emotion. It was like she'd practiced how to enunciate her words, to make them sound more serene than the woman herself. "Of all the rooftops in this city, it's strange that you'd choose the same one I did. I wonder, is it coincidence that you found me? Or perhaps was I the one you were looking for all along..."

"No. You weren't." Natasha answered automatically, suddenly very aware of how harsh her voice sounds in comparison. It isn't melodic or soft like Elektra's, it lacks the pleasantness, the cool, haunting tones. Natasha's voice sounded rough, like her throat was dry, and compared to hers it isn't gentle at all. Natasha's voice was hard, lacking any seductive qualities. She wouldn't bother with sweet words or intonations, not when it came to her. "You know very well who I am looking for."

She could hear Elektra's smile, even though for a moment she was so silent it was almost unnerving. And her silence was taunting too. It was like it was her way of keeping something from Natasha, like she had a personal joke she was snickering at but wouldn't share with the class. It was enraging, to say the least.

"Don't be embarrassed, Black Widow." Natasha flinched at her words, stepping quietly away from the edge, stalking toward the ninja against her better judgment. "He's quite good at hiding, when he wants to be. I sometimes have trouble finding him myself." Natasha knew it was a lie, but she was too angry to care. She hated the thought of being bested by her, she hated the thought of being mocked by her. She knew she was better than Elektra, in every sense of the word. She refused to acknowledge any possibilities that this could be otherwise.

Still, she was caught off guard when Elektra stood and seemingly floated over to her, just feet away now, an arm's length maybe, if she counted her fingertips. Natasha could see her face now, her perfect angles in the red lights of the Kitchen. Dark eyes, like a doe, wide and deceptively innocent. Natasha wondered what they would look like in the heat of a fight, when her flawless amber complexion was drenched in a stranger's blood. What would those eyes look like then?

Elektra laughed then, shattering the relative silence of their rooftop, and before Natasha can snap at her, she felt the cool metal point, right at her throat. Natasha's eyes flew wide, heart beating in her chest like a caged bird, frantic to escape. So stupid, to be lulled and tricked into compliance. So foolish. The sai was there, just below her chin, and all Elektra needed to do was press and the Black Widow would bleed scarlet billows out over the roof. Elektra didn't press though. Instead she smirked, raising an eyebrow devilishly, and in a fluid motion that Natasha couldn't even see, she kicked the spy in the gut as hard as she could, knocking the wind out of her and leaving herself the triumphant victor towering above.

"You are really pathetic," she laughed, not bothering to adopt any sort of defensive stance. A dangerous gambit on the assassin's part. "I expected much more from you, Natalia."

She didn't bother to try and catch her breath, her instincts and training kicked in before she had the chance. Natasha was a flurry of movement, on her feet in seconds, snarling as she charged at the fleeting bolts of red. She was a decent martial artist, she could hold her own against most anybody, and if need be, she could always fall back on her wristlets.

Her opponent was laughing at her still, ducking and dodging every single move she made, fluttering around her like she was in a ballroom instead of on a roof top. Red and black and the bronze of her skin all danced circles around her, and somehow, in the mix, she was striking Natasha too. Quick, searing jabs to her belly, to her throat, to all those pressure points that could be dangerous if hit too hard. Elektra knew what she was doing; she was toying with her like a cat with a cornered rodent.

It was a very poor situation to find herself in. Her embarrassment and her rage finally got to her, and Natasha moved her arms to aim her bite, to electrocute Elektra where she stood. Teeth bared, sparks ready to deploy, her breathing suddenly halted as she felt something sharp between two of her ribs.

"If you want to play the weapons game, it's only fair I get to use mine." Elektra wasn't smiling anymore, and her voice had taken a darker, more serious tone. A deadly tone perhaps. One that Natasha ought to have been more wary of. The tip of the blade was angled just so, perfect to puncture the most vital of organs, perfect for a kill shot. "You know, I learned a magic trick once. Would you like to see it?"

Natasha was frozen. She was closer to death than she'd been in ages, and even if the stab wound didn't kill her, the injury would be horrific. She refused to acknowledge her fear though, she refused to let Elektra even believe for a second that she'd won. Boldly, and with her most composed voice, she managed an answer. "I don't believe in magic."

That seemed to amuse her, Natasha caught the flash in her eyes, the considering moment of teasing. There it was, that look of stalking and danger, the one so many must have seen before meeting whatever comes at the end of life. Elektra had that killer's look, and it was entirely beautiful. It suited her well, and Natasha decided that perhaps instead of a doe, her eyes were like a she-wolf's.

For several seconds Elektra stared at her almost longingly before she slowly pressed the blade in. Natasha gasped, yelped, screamed at the pain, though it was momentary, really. As quickly as it had been placed to her ribs, it had been withdrawn, only penetrating her torso by a centimeter, maybe less. Elektra too had withdrawn, wiping the blade clean on her skirt before striding back toward her lookout spot on the ledge, leaving Natasha clutching her wound and hissing in pain. "I didn't believe in magic either. It's funny how quickly that can change."

"You're...you bitch..." She snarled, falling to her knees, hands drenched in her own blood.

"You'll survive."

Natasha growled at her, angry and shrill, face twisted in pain. Survival wasn't the point. The fact that the wound would, in the end, be superficial wasn't the point either. Her pride was hurt. No, her pride had been crucified. And she would be left to carry a scar from her, a permanent reminder of who was better than whom. She was utterly humiliated. And she was so caught up in the agony of her defeat that she was momentarily unaware of Elektra's reappearance at her level.

"You'll survive, Black Widow."

"Shut your mouth. Don't speak to me. Leave."

Elektra didn't budge, now kneeling in front of her, those same doe eyes from before staring right into hers. Gentle eyes. Affectionate even. So soft and tranquil that Natasha could have easily forgotten that the bitch had just impaled her with her sai. "It's not worth it. Not really."

Natasha didn't understand what she meant, what the hell she could possibly mean by that. She opened her mouth to respond to the lunacy, shaking her head, completely bewildered by what Elektra was saying or why she was standing so close to her, offering her a hand to stand up. Natasha didn't know why she'd taken her hand either, but she had, and again, she was standing too.

"It isn't worth it. Your pride isn't worth any of it."

"What are you saying?" Natasha asked quietly, holding her ribs tightly, one arm wrapped securely around herself, the other hand still in Elektra's grasp. "What does that even mean? Some sort of ancient ninja philosophy I'm not privy to? Is it some joke between you and Matt that I'm not a part of? Something you laugh about together? Huh?"

She shook her head, and she kept her grip on Natasha's hand. "This is something between you and me, Black Widow." She paused, bringing the gloved hand to her lips. Natasha's eyes went wide, and Elektra didn't bother to mask a small smile. "You see me as a rival. And why? Because of a man we both abandoned."

Natasha considers protesting, but she stops, jaw gaping a little as Elektra slides around her body, kissing up her leather clad arm, up to the exposed skin at her jaw line.

"Neither of us have claim to him anymore, Widow. He isn't yours to defend anymore than he is mine." Elektra's voice was barely a whisper now, lips moving hauntingly across Natasha's throat. Her breath was warm, and actually rather soothing. Maybe it was the body heat in general, being so close to another human being on the cold autumn night. That would explain why her body seemed to be melting beneath Elektra's feather light touches.

"He is mine to defend," she insisted, probably in vain, though honestly, it was true. Who else could claim to be his partner, his back up? And she still loved him, she did. They might have been a horrible couple, but he still held part of her soul the same way she was sure she held part of his. Just as Elektra did...

"No he isn't. He's a big boy, he can take care of himself." Elektra was still at her jaw, nuzzling it now more than anything else, hands at Natasha's hips, holding her steady, or maybe just exploring her body. She reminded Natasha of a needy kitten now, the way she was wrapping herself around her, enveloping her, almost desperate in how she attached herself to Natasha.

It would be a shame not to oblige her.

Natasha had no explanation for what was coming over her, why she felt the sudden urge to kiss her rival, to throw her arms around her too, to tear that awful, flimsy excuse for a costume off her body and study her naked form. Mindful of her aching, bleeding ribs, she started at just that, ripping the fabric from off Elektra's shoulder, tearing it down so she could gaze at her breasts.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, face unreadable to the layman, though her eyes did flicker with what was perhaps excitement. They were magnificent breasts, she could give her that much, perfectly shaped, and they probably felt perfect too, and she had the sudden need to lick them, to suckle on them, to squeeze and pinch her nipples. It was a strange sensation for her, the female form not being one she was used to lusting after, but her body was already reacting. Wordlessly, she ducked down, taking one of Elektra's breasts in her mouth, cupping the other gingerly as she nipped and kissed her flesh.

The moans she evoked were surprising, they were unexpected. For a moment, she'd forgotten the she wasn't alone, an idiotic notion maybe, but alone in her thoughts, and with Elektra so silent, it was almost easy to forget that the woman she was working her mouth over was a living, breathing human being, and would react as such. Stopping, withdrawing slowly, Natasha stared up at the dark haired woman, as if seeking validation. Not that she needed it or anything. "You are shivering."

Elektra nodded. Indeed, her skin was prickling, covered with goosebumps, and her nipple had shriveled to the point where it could easily have been painful. "It's September. It's cold."

"Perhaps we should go elsewhere." Natasha lowered her gaze, eyes scanning the adjourning rooftops for a stairwell, a fire escape, anywhere more secluded than a rooftop in the middle of Hell's Kitchen. Warmer would be nice too.

She said nothing, just the flash of the she-wolf eyes before she backed away, and Natasha was left cursing that damn ninja and her insane abilities. Her jealousy was threatening to show itself again, along with her embarrassment and pride. Growling, she finally spotted her from the corner of her eye, one building over, a bare breasted goddess standing on the edge, beckoning her to follow.

And for some reason, she did. It was strange, trailing someone so quick and stealthy. She could see the bolts of crimson every so often, but for the most part, she was guessing where Elektra would turn up. The bitch could melt into the shadows it seemed, and perhaps if Natasha hadn't known better, she would have thought she was hallucinating then entire episode. But experience told her otherwise, and blindly she followed the assassin across the neighborhood until they landed silently on a very familiar rooftop.

"Here?" Natasha breathed heavy, winded a little due to the injury, visibly concerned as to why they'd suddenly stopped on the roof of Matt's brownstone.

"Here." Came her answer as Elektra disappeared inside, slinking down the side of the building and in through his bedroom window. Natasha had no choice but to follow suit.

"Is he home?"

Elektra didn't answer, instead she disarmed and disrobed, standing nude and unashamed at the foot of Matt's bed, so proud and regal. She was a beautiful creature. Natasha was finding it very difficult not to be swayed by her beauty, despite all her reservations and confusion. If she asked questions, she would lose her nerve, she'd run back to her penthouse and she'd be miserable and defeated and alone. If she stayed though, God only knew what would happen.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because I want to."

Natasha narrowed her eyes, arms falling to the side as she stepped cautiously toward the other woman. "And why, Elektra, do you want to?"

"Because I can."

That wasn't an answer. That wasn't an answer at all. But for some strange reason, she found it very difficult to care. It was that look in her eyes, somewhere between wolf and doe, somewhere between innocence and lust. That was what Natasha could not resist. And before she could stop herself, she was disarming too, wristlets tossed haphazardly aside, and Elektra was tugging at the zipper of her costume. She stepped out of the leather slowly, face tightening as her wound was exposed. It was funny how she'd almost forgotten the pain, how she'd become so consumed by want that she'd nearly forgotten that this woman had stuck a blade into her moments earlier. Funny...

Elektra's hands were on her hips again. Her bare hips. Wider than Elektra's. In general, she was curvier than Elektra too, not to mention shorter and less muscular. Elektra had an athlete's body, lean, build for speed and strength, whereas she was more of a dancer. Both were graceful, no question, but in different ways. Their differences intrigued Natasha, and perhaps she'd have spent more time considering them if she wasn't being led out of Matt's bedroom and into his bathroom.

"What are you doing?" She asked dumbly, holding her rib while Elektra started the shower. She was certainly winning the moron of the evening award, that was for certain. If Elektra agreed though, she didn't voice it, instead she pulled the other woman into the shower with her once the water reached her desired temperature.

"You're really very beautiful, you know." Elektra said softly, stepping under the spray, eyes closing as she became drenched. Natasha winced as the water splashed back into her face, shivering a little from the lack of heat, being just outside the water's reach. "I can see what attracted him to you."

Natasha snorted, silently pleased she wasn't the only one who made stupid assumptions about what Matt could or could not see. Without a word, she stepped under the water too, body barely an inch from touching Elektra's. The water burned her wound, and she hissed sharply, eyes narrowing from the pain. It hurt, it was stinging, but she refused to step back, she refused to cower. If Matt had been there, she might have given in and cried, she might have allowed a moment of weakness. But she refused to let Elektra see that in her.

"You're strong," Elektra mumbled, conjuring up some soap and running it along Natasha's body. "And you're very brave. You're not one of his usual damsels. I like that."

"You're not a damsel either."

"No, I'm not," she agreed, working the lather over Natasha's torso, soft and gentle where the sai had struck before boldly cupping her breasts. "That gives us something in common, doesn't it?"

She was unsure of all this small talk, but she could put up with it. Her hands were so shockingly light on her body, fingertips barely registering has having touched her skin. And somehow, it was pulling a strong reaction from her body. Natasha was melting, she needed to be touched, she needed something physical and real.

"You've always seen me as your rival, haven't you? Even before I returned to America, when I was just the girl in his stories from college." Elektra sounded almost amused, and as if she could hear her thoughts, one of her hands slipped lower and started teasing at Natasha's body in ways she hadn't exactly been expecting. A finger teased slowly at her clit, brushing across it so lightly, it made Natasha's knees go weak for a split second. Instinctively, her stance adjusted, and her legs spread to allow Elektra to touch her more intimately. "It's because I was his first, isn't it? Because before you, and before Karen Page, and before anyone else had him, I had him. You've always been jealous of that."

"Yes," she was practically whispering, cheeks glowing bright red beneath the spray. She'd blame the hot water, she'd blame the blood loss. She was delirious, and it was quite hot, and that's why her hips were moving on their own accord and why she was agreeing with every word Elektra said. "I love him...I don't want to share him with anyone. I don't want to share him with you."

Elektra chuckled at that, still teasing Natasha with slow, fleeting touches. If she hadn't been so aroused, she would have punched her in her big, stupid face. The bitch, laughing at her expense. Natasha considered jerking away, attacking Elektra again, and perhaps she would have, if Elektra wasn't suddenly on her knees, urging her legs even further apart, nuzzling at her hips for a moment before starting to tease at her clit again, this time with her tongue.

She yelped something in Russian. A profanity maybe, or perhaps just a random word, like fish, or mountain, she wasn't even sure. Her mind had erased itself for a second, and her only reaction was to brace herself against the shower wall and let her body follow the other woman's lead. Elektra apparently knew what she was doing, because it all felt so good, long, arduous licks along Natasha's slit, suckling at her clit, tongue swirling in the most toe curling manner, one finger slipped inside of her, then another. She couldn't help herself, her body was practically singing with pleasure, and it was only a matter of time before orgasm hit her so strong, she nearly lost her balance. She felt it all over, like she was humming and alive, like all her senses had opened up for that moment that she rode the wave of climax, and then, when it was over, it was all she could do to slump uselessly against the tiled wall like a little ragdoll.

She wasn't sure what to say, blinking as she opened her eyes, flinching a little as the other woman stood again and turned off the shower water. She watched, confused, but not helpless, as Elektra exited the shower and wordlessly dried herself. Natasha followed a moment later, grabbing the other towel off the rack and wrapping it around herself before silently padding after Elektra back to the bedroom. Her knees were wobbly, though she'd deny it to the grave, such a strange revelation to be having in her ex-boyfriend's bedroom with his ex-girlfriend.

Elektra was sprawled out on the bed, still save for the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her skin looked especially vibrant against the white towel and sheets, and even sopping wet, she was glorious. Natasha couldn't resist but to join her on the bed, scooting in beside her, propped up carefully on one elbow, still minding her injury. Unsure of what to say, she said the first thing that came to mind. "You're very good at that."

"I try."

A strike out, perhaps. Not that she cared, or should have cared. She'd gotten that release she'd wanted. She'd gotten that physical, real sensation. She could have dressed and flipped out of Matt's home without another word, and she could have slept very soundly in her own bed. "You didn't have to do that."

"I know."

She didn't appreciate the two word responses. She desired a bit more acknowledgment than that. Frowning, she decided she'd go with a more tender route. Brushing back a strand of wet hair from Elektra's cheek, she leaned in, pausing just before their lips brushed together. Elektra's lips with soft, but they were hot, burning. Her whole mouth was a mess of heat and need, and while their kiss started out slowly, things rapidly became frantic. Teeth were knocking, lips were being nipped at and bitten, one or both of them were bleeding from the frenzy of motion. And their limbs were in motion now too, tearing at the towels and kicking the sheets back until both of them were exposed again. Natasha's stab wound was forgotten, she had more important things to worry about, like positioning herself properly so that their vulvas would hit at the right angle, so that they could pleasure each other.

Hips rocked, pelvises aligned just so, and the sensation was something she'd never felt before. It was instinct to move like this, to writhe against Elektra and move her body like that. And it felt so good. So incredibly good that she couldn't tell who was crying and moaning louder. Their pussies met perfectly, and their hips were moving in a twisted unison, long, plaintive strokes, soft, then hard, then rapid, in no discernible pattern except they mirrored one another. And when they came, it was within moments of each other. Natasha could swear she'd felt Elektra's orgasm building slowly, she could feel her release, letting it send her over the edge with a haggard sob. And together, they both collapsed onto Matt's bed, tangled in his sheets, both too spent and exhausted to get up right away.

Not until he made his presence known.

"What the hell was that?"

Natasha's face grew hot as she bolted up, clutching the nearest towel to her breasts like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Humiliation. Shame. It was all sweeping over her again. Even though Matt couldn't see the horrified expression on her face, she was certain he could hear it. Or something.

"What did it look like?" Elektra answered coolly, not catching the irony. She didn't even bother to get up, the bitch. She'd probably planned this all. That horrible, wicked bitch. Natasha glared at her, scooting away, ready to dive off the bed and snatch her wristlets up off the floor. Sex or no, she'd electrocute her. And she'd laugh while she did it.

"I don't know, Elektra. But it sounded very interesting." Matt pulled his cowl off, tossing it into the pile of miscellaneous costumes, kicking off his boots as he circled the bed. Natasha loved him, sure, but that look on his face was less than desirable. Smug perhaps? Yes, that was a decent word for it. He looked self-satisfied and completely smug, and for some reason he had stripped off his clothing and crawled into the bed with them.

The fact that it was his bed didn't occur to her immediately. Blood loss and heat.

"What do you want, Matthew?" Elektra curled around his reclined body, seemingly oblivious to Natasha's presence at the foot of the bed. It was like she could care less that the Black Widow was still there, looking bewildered and seething with rage.

Matt didn't answer, and he didn't seem to mind Elektra's body attaching itself to his. He just laughed lightly, running his fingers through Elektra's thick black hair, running a thumb along her cheek in the most adoring manner, kissing her temple gently. The bastard was next. After she electrocuted Elektra, she'd go for Murdock. 

"I want my widow-lady to come back to bed."

She frowned, she didn't want his pity, or his teasing. She didn't want his possessive tone, or his meaningless diminutives. And she didn't want them to seem so smug at her expense. Natasha had far too much pride for that. "No. I'm going home."

"Natasha," he said quietly, reaching for her with one arm, the other snugly around Elektra, "You'd come all this way to have sex in my bed with someone other than me, and you'd run off as soon as I get back. That's cruel, even by your standards." She stayed quiet, slipping out of bed, searching for all the components of her outfit, strewn about on the floor. "And yet you claim to love me. Come on, honey, have a heart."

"I wouldn't mind sharing him with you." 

That caught her attention, more than Matt's incessant talk. Elektra's voice cut over his like a bell, in that same peaceful tone she'd taken on the rooftop. Her expression too, though masked by the shadows and the dark was the one Natasha had found so keenly exciting. The wolf and the doe, innocence and carnage, so alluring, so deadly alluring. 

And they called her the Black Widow.

She was on the bed again before either Matt or Elektra could exhale, wrapped around him in her own possessive way, staring across his chest at Elektra and her big brown eyes. Matt's hand was stroking at her back, soothing and calming, and provoking more involuntary responses from her, and before long, round three had broken out amongst the trio. Hands, lips, limbs all jumbled, heavy breaths and sweat and heat. And then sleep. Natasha slept like she hadn't slept in ages, pressed against Matt, clinging tightly to him as if he would vanish into the shadows if she didn't. 

She awoke with a start though, just before dawn, waking Matt too, she was sure. But it was just the two of them. Elektra was nowhere in sight, and his bedroom window was open just a crack, curtain fluttering in the pre-dawn breeze of the city. Though she was sure she was alone with him now, she couldn't help but whisper as she curled back around him and shut her eyes, "I don't mind sharing him with you either."


End file.
